sweet like berry-kun
by archetypal hero
Summary: In which Orihime cooks and Ichigo has something else in mind.


**disclaimer: **disclaimed.  
**warning:** smut scenes galore. enjoy, my perverted babies~!**  
****note: **for nadeau! happy belated birthday, hun~!  
**note2:** and i'm off to update risque now! ( ^ω^ )

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**sweet  
like  
berry-kun**

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Orihime released a deep breath.

She had never been immensely stressed before, at least not over something like _this._ Of all things that could possibly go wrong (like robot-aliens attacking the world or little, blue men kidnapping her friends), Orihime never thought cooking a normal meal would be one of them.

Of course, it wasn't the meal that was restlessly tugging on her nerves. It was _who_ she was cooking the meal for. That special someone would happen to be Ichigo Kurosaki, the man with the bright hair and the infamous scowl and the amber eyes and the hard-built reputation.

The man that happened to be Orihime's _boyfriend_.

For months, the two have been going steady—today would be their one-year anniversary. For such occasion, Orihime offered to cook dinner for him at her apartment, rather than spending money to go out. It seemed to be a simple task at the time when Orihime volunteered, but once she was in the kitchen, attempting to make the food Ichigo might have enjoyed, cooking was probably the most difficult task Orihime had to face.

Orihime frowned in concentration as she carefully poured the ingredients she accumulated into a large pot. Then, with a wooden spoon, she slowly stirred, mixing the ingredients. Orihime brought the spoon to her mouth; her pink tongue darted out between her plump lips to taste her creation. When the taste was satisfactory, Orihime placed the pot on of the stove, which was pre-heated, and patiently waited for the substance to boil.

Once she made sure that the food was properly cooking, Orihime headed for her bedroom to prepare for her date.

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Orihime blew out a breath of relief, wiping the top of her forehead with the back of her hand. The edge of her lips curled into a smile as she patted herself on the back for successfully cooking the meal.

Orihime placed the food dishes on the dining table, then she adjusted the utensils, plates, and napkins in a neat fashion. She removed the oven mittens from her hands and took off her apron, placing the items in an empty drawer. When everything seemed to be in order, Orihime used her fingers to comb her long, russet hair and adjusted her pastel-yellow dress that had fit nicely in the curves of her form.

_Ring! Ring!_

Instantly, Orihime's eyes flickered over to the door. Her stomach swarmed with butterflies as she treaded towards the entrance. Orihime cleared her throat, straightened up, and opened it to find a man leaning on the door frame with a bouquet of red and whites roses in his hands.

"Yo," Ichigo greeted, giving her a lop-sided grin and handing her the flowers. "Happy Anniversary, Hime."

Orihime's face beamed. "Uwah~! They're so pretty, Ichi-kun. Thank you!"

She grabbed the bouquet before running into the kitchen and searching the cabinets for a vase. Fortunately, Orihime found large, clear one in a bottom cabinet. She filled the vase with water before stuffing the roses in it and showing her creation to Ichigo.

"Ta-da! See, Ichigo? They'll last much longer in this!"

Ichigo flashed her a goofy smile, amused of her actions. Orihime returned the smile before turning around to place the the vase on the counter. Suddenly, she felt a pair of muscular arms wrap tightly around her waist, followed by Ichigo's face nuzzling against her neck. Orihime hummed in pleasure, enjoying the sudden warmth, as she wrapped her arms around his.

"What's on the menu?"

"Ichi-kun's favorite! Curry served over rice!" Orihime turned in Ichigo's arms so she could face him before placing a finger to her mouth**. **"I got the recipe from Yuzu-chan. She told me to keep it a secret."

Ichigo grinned, his hands gently stroking her back. "Did she now?"

"Yes, I can't tell a soul!" Orihime informed with a determined glint in her eyes. "That includes you, Ichi."

Ichigo gave Orihime a playful pout. "You're so cruel, Hime."

Orihime mimicked his actions before crossing her arms. "I don't think someone so cruel would make dinner for you!" She wiggled herself from his embrace. "Now, come on! I want you to try the curry and tell me what you think!"

The two sat at the table and enjoyed the food Orihime had prepared for them. While they were eating, Ichigo complimented Orihime's cooking because, for once, it actually tasted good, and it wasn't a strange combination of food like her other dishes.

Once they were finished, Orihime collected the dishes. Ichigo insisted that he should be the one to clean them since she cooked. Orihime resisted his offer, but with Ichigo being stubborn, he did not take no for an answer and cleaned the dishes anyways.

Ichigo completed the task, then wiped his damp hands with a towel nearby. He looked up at Orihime, who was patiently sitting at the table. "What's for dessert?"

"D-Dessert?" Orihime mimicked with a horrified look on her face. She was so focused on cooking Ichigo an acceptable meal that she completely forgot about making dessert. "Sorry, Ichigo. I forgot to make one."

Ichigo stared at Orihime, unfazed by her words, before coming up with an idea. "We can improvise, then."

Orihime frowned and tilted her head, strands of coppery hair fell in front of her face, wondering what the redhead had in mind. Her hazel eyes followed Ichigo as he headed to her fridge. He opened the door and grabbed chocolate syrup, a tub of whipped creme, and a bowl of red, perfectly-ripe strawberries.

Her wide, innocent eyes gleamed in hunger, "Ichi-kun, are you going to make us ice-cream sundaes for dessert?"

"No," he returned as he walked towards Orihime, placing the items he grabbed on the table. Orihime's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As she opened her mouth, Ichigo corrected her:

"I'm having _you_ for dessert."

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Within seconds, Orihime was on the table, her breath hitched.

Ichigo was between her legs. A smirk laced his lips as he slowly traced his fingers from her ankles, to her knees, to her inner thighs. They lingered teasingly, dangerously close to her most intimate area. Immediately, he withdrew his hand from her legs, making Orihime feel unsatisfied.

Ichigo roughly grabbed her chin, smashing his lips onto hers. Orihime gasped and moaned, yet relaxed when he softly massaged her head, his fingers combing through her hair. His hands grabbed the hem of her dress before pulling it to the top of her stomach, giving him easy access to the bright, orange fabric that stretched over her sex.

Ichigo smirked. It was Orihime's favorite color, as he recalled.

Diligently, Ichigo tugged her panties down her creamy skin, then discarded them somewhere in the distance. He lifted her legs, spreading them so his hips could meet hers. In reaction, Orihime whined in blissful pleasure, feeling his warm, hard length against her bare core. Orihime began to sensually grind against him; the feeling was absolutely _unbearable_.

"Ichi-kun," she murmured against his neck, planting soft, small kisses.

Ichigo groaned, feeling Orihime's warm breath against his neck. Instantly, he broke contact from her hips and, very slowly, laid her down onto the table. He grabbed a strawberry from the bowl, covered the fruit in whipped cream and drizzled it in chocolate, before inserting it between his lips.

Ichigo grabbed another strawberry, grinning.

Without hesitation, he brought the fruit to the tip of her core. Orihime shuddered; chills raced down her spine as she adjusted to the feeling of coldness pressing onto her apex. She was on the edge when Ichigo dipped the strawberry into her opening, soaking the strawberry in her hot liquid. He withdrew the strawberry from between her legs, brought the concoction to his lips, before slowly eating it.

"W-What are you doing?" Orihime asked in disbelief, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Ichigo's eyebrow raised, "What does it look like I'm doing?" He fervently licked his lips, catching the rest of the fruit that slipped out of his mouth, before smirking. "I'm having a strawberry covered in _you_."

This made Orihime's cheeks burn, as if they were not any redder. Ichigo was doing this to embarrass her, it really wasn't fair at all.

Orihime's consciousness was quickly broken when Ichigo spread whipped cream down her moist slit. She groaned in frustration when he teased her with his fingers that dragged down her thighs, towards her sex.

Orihime sharply drew in air when he finally tugged on her clit. Ichigo knelt down on his knees, then grabbed Orihime's hips before pulling them closer to him. He flashed Orihime a lop-sided grin, taking in the sweet scent that lingered from her hot warmth.

"You smell good," he growled, darting his hot tongue from his lips to lick the sweet, creamy substance off her slit.

Orihime gasped, her hips instantly bucked in pleasure, giving Ichigo easier access. He planted small, chaste kisses over her opening before returning to her clit, tugging and rolling it with his teeth. A lewd moan escaped Orihime's lips; for him, it was sweet music to his ear.

Ichigo inserted a finger, briskly pumping and stretching her wall. Orihime rolled her hips in sync with his finger, as moans and whimpers slipped off her tongue. Ichigo quickened his pace, feeling Orihime contract against his touch. He inserted another finger, pumping faster, unrhythmically, until she had reached a blissful peak, unraveling around his fingers.

Orihime's breathing was the only noise remaining in the room. Her chest was rapidly rising and falling, trying to regain her breath, and her trembling legs were calming from her orgasm. A sheen of sweat was visible on the top of her breasts, around her forehead, and in the creases of her neck. Once Orihime resolved, she glanced at Ichigo before smiling.

"My turn."

Quickly, Orihime stumbled off the table, her limbs still trembling from her sensual peak, and got down on her knees. She tugged on the hem of his shirt and dragged her fingers under it, tracing the curves and lines of his toned chest. Ichigo, slightly startled, grunted from her soft, smooth touch as her hands reached his abdomen and slowly guided him down on the table.

Grabbing the whipped cream, Orihime evenly spread the sweet, sticky substance over his chest. She finished her masterpiece by drizzling chocolate syrup over it. The ends of her mouth formed a secret smile as she leaned closer to him.

Slowly, from top to bottom, she licked the delicious cream off him, muscle after muscle, making Ichigo squirm and writhe in need. Cursing under his breath, he began to thrust his hips against her, his erection digging into her stomach. Orihime moaned, feeling his hard muscles under neath her tongue and his hard cock underneath her abdomen. The salty taste of his skin mixed smoothly, evenly with the sweet taste of whipped cream and chocolate.

Ichigo groaned as she flicked her tongue on his chest, slightly arching his back when he felt the vibrations of her voice echo deliciously against him.

"F-Fuck," Ichigo groaned under his disheveled breath.

Suddenly, Ichigo grabbed Orihime's shoulders, pulling her lips away from his throbbing length. He lifted her body and turned her around so she was facing the table. Orihime, instinctively, leaned on the table while Ichigo parted her legs, sliding between them afterwards.

Hastily, Ichigo unbuckled his belt, opened the zipper, and pulled his pants down to his ankles, giving Orihime a clear, decadent view of his aching manhood. Orihime squirmed, watching him stroke his hardened cock, before she released a frustrated moan.

"Please, Ichigo," she whispered wantonly, fervently under her heated breath, her eyes still connected to his enlarged member.

Ichigo slowly leaned against her back; his length brushed against her bottom in the process, making Orihime arch with need and lust and desire. An excited gasp slipped through her lips when Ichigo planted a kiss on her earlobe, gently tugging on it.

Then, Ichigo murmured into her ear, "Please what, Hime?"

Orihime whimpered, biting her lip when he slowly rubbed his cock against her back. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear, and the arousing thought made Orihime's face flush. "Please f-fuck me, Ichi—argh!"

Orihime groaned when Ichigo entered her hard, quick, and deep. He wasted no time at starting slow, and pounded roughly into her. The table began to creak, as if it couldn't hold their weight any longer, yet they continued, quickening their pace.

Ichigo lifted Orihime's leg, placing it on the table for better access, as he pumped himself deeper inside Orihime, to whom consumed inch after delicious inch. Orihime moaned loudly as her head fell back, feeling yet another wave of pleasure overcome her.

Immediately, Ichigo stopped thrusting. Disappointed, Orihime glanced back him in bewilderment on why he ceased when she was so close. He chuckled at her reaction.

"Not yet," he whispered, as he lifted her from the table. He turned Orihime around, until she was facing him, before placing her on the table once more. Orihime wrapped her arms and legs around Ichigo, pushing him closer to her.

Then, Ichigo started the process again, letting them slowly rise to their peak once more. Orihime moaned, wrapping her arms around Ichigo tightly, as she roughly scraped her nails into his back. Ichigo growled in response, picking up his threatening pace, as he, too, grabbed Orihime for dear life.

"Shit," Ichigo groaned, continuing to pound into her, feeling Orihime constrict against his straining member that was begging for release.

Orihime's breathing was ragged, nonrhythmic, as she tried to catch up with Ichigo's thrusting. Soft, garbled noises escaped her throat when she felt herself tighten against Ichigo; her hips sensually grind against him. When she could no longer keep up, Orihime found her release, her body violently shaking during the aftermath. Soon after, Ichigo followed, slowing down his pace, as their breathing loudly echoed off the walls.

Feeling limp, thoroughly satisfied, and out of energy, Orihime leaned against Ichigo's chest. When it seemed as if seconds, minutes, hours passed by, Orihime slowly lifted her face to meet his. Ichigo wore a smile on his lips before nuzzling lovingly into her neck and murmuring playfully under his breath:

"Best Anniversary gift—_ever_."

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**end.**

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**note3: **ah finished! this took forever to write (sorry nadeau-chan!). it was so hard to write some parts due to how shitty i word things (lol for being awkward). (u_u) i tried to make this smexy and completely failed lol. but, review anyways, yeah? (^o^)


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